


Bewitched

by Canablah



Series: Electric Glow [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy has a smart mouth, Darcy is no one's bitch, Especially when it's saying naughty stuff, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fucked up realtionship, Loki's voice should be illegal, Making her beg, Multiple Orgasms, Okay maybe Loki's, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Poor Darcy, She just doesn't know how to talk dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canablah/pseuds/Canablah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis does not, under any circumstance, like being owned. In any sense of the word. Or maybe she does.. Just a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bewitched

**Author's Note:**

> I take full responsibility for this thorn-wrapped, mud caked, bruised, bloody piece of utter filth.

In all the nine realms, the worst idea by far seemed to be this: to actively try and make Loki jealous. However, Darcy rarely regarded rules. Ever the bold Midgardian. Ever the  _stupid_  Midgardian.

So, she had done it. She had, with all her wits about her, flirted with the sales clerk at Home Depot, making  _sure,_ the entire time, that Loki was watching. 

Why? She didn’t know. She was Darcy. She had urges sometimes. She liked to feel blood pumping in her chest, and adrenaline surging through her head. She liked to feel alive. She liked to mix things up. She liked, every once in a while, proving to Loki that she had some control over their little  _fling_. And that, in itself, would be her downfall.

Because Loki is a jealous God.

 

A tiny touch flitted over her clitoris, and she moaned, back arching off the bed.

"You are dripping," the baritone voice commented, breathing the words right over her weeping pussy.

She thrust up to meet his mouth, offering her little sex up in tribute to the god of mischief, tender places so very close to strong, thin, smirking lips.

"So pink, so tight, so tiny, so sensitive, all for me," he whispered, running a wet finger down the side of her swollen cunt. Her skin gave a delicious twitch under the touch.

"Loki. Just please." Darcy’s voice was hoarse with lust, breathy and pleading and frustrated.

He parted her with that same finger, slipping it between the glistening, saturated lips, and brushed the pad of it over the opening- light, teasing, torturous.

Darcy whined low in her throat, shifting and displaying her hips desperately. The woman was caught in a state of painful, glaring arousal. Every inch of her body displayed the marks of Loki’s teasing; the little, red welts, the bruises placed precisely around her nipples, the cum trickling onto silken sheets beneath her prone frame. And one thing was apparent; It was unwise to make the God of Mischief envious. Ever.

Loki spoke. “What did I say about your incessant writhing, Darcy?” His voice was filled with sick bemusement.

She stilled, but her gasping breaths did not.

Again, he circled her entrance with one finger, almost pressing in- but not quite.

"Now, tell me again, to whom does this tight little hole belong?"

Her whole being clenched at his words, breath tickling her overly-sensitized flesh. “You,” she mewled.

"Who?" he played, pushing in just a tiny bit. Her tiny hole took him eagerly, clenching around his fingertip as if sucking him in.

"Loki!"

He entered her in one swift motion, and she shrieked, hips coming up again involuntarily, blue, pretty eyes rolling back in her head. Both hands fisted- white knuckled- in the sheets beside her mussed hair.

Then, slowly, that same long, big finger pulled out of Darcy, and came up to Loki’s mouth.

"Look at me," he demanded.

She did, her eyes pricking with tears, face flushed, lips plump, a delicious haze of lust clouding her eyes.

She watched as he pulled his finger, dripping with her cum, into his mouth, and tasted.

She was sure she would come from the visual. She did not.

He let the finger slip from his lips with a little _pop_ , smiling dangerously at the desperate Darcy. “Do you know what your cunt tastes of?”

"What?" she whimpered.

"Pure, utter, want."

It was too much. Her head dropped back down, mouth hanging open slightly, hips rocking into the air of their own accord, unable to look into the burning blue eyes any longer.

"How badly do you want your God, Darcy?" His finger tickled over her cunt lips. "Pay tribute." It was a growl.

"Loki, I want you. I need you," she pleaded, words desperate and rushing. "I need your cock inside me, fucking me hard."

"Beg."

"Please fuck me, Loki," she pleaded. "Please put your cock inside me and fuck me. Right now. Please!"

He licked an abrupt line up her soaked slit, her reaction an appreciative scream, and then crawled, on all fours, over her body.

Darcy threaded her hands through his hair- hard, pulling him down, not giving a fuck about his stupid commands anymore. She shifted so that her sex was pressed against his hardened length and ground- hard.

He chuckled, flipped the position so that she was on top of him.

Darcy took the opportunity to sink down onto his cock. However, she regretted it sincerely when she felt the pain shoot through her abdomen and up into her nipples from the sudden intrusion. A tiny cry of protest tore from her pale throat.

She had forgotten his girth entirely.

For a moment, Darcy rested there, adjusting, stretching, writhing between the delicious boundary of pain and pleasure. After being tortured for over three hours and denied the orgasm she so desperately needed, it was glorious. And then she moved; fast, hard-

He growled, grabbed her hips. “Slow.”

"Loki," she whined. She clenched around him.

He lifted her easily, and then slid her body back down onto his length, infuriatingly slow.

She whined, wriggling against him. “Faster, damnit.” It was a plea upon her pouty lips.

He lifted her again, brought her back down, rubbing against that tender spot inside her in the last moment of motion.

She moaned pitifully, grabbed onto his chest, digging her nails in.

His tone dripped in condescension. “Mark me, pet. You cannot hurt me.”

A little faster this time, he let her slide up and down on his cock. Pausing, his eyes roamed over her predicament. He noticed her cum dribbling around the base of his cock, watched her breasts heave with labored breath, and smiled.

He lifted her hips once more, and Darcy came, clenching and un-clenching around him erratically, eyes open just like he preferred. Her voice was a cocktail of little pieces of his name and incoherent whimpers. And while she was busy with that, he guided her back down onto his length, burying inside the quivering heat of her sex.

Loki flipped them over again so that he was on top.

She whined, gripping his shoulders, barely able to recover from the first orgasm when she was quickly headed toward another.

He kept a firm hold on her hips, sinking into the sensitivity unceremoniously, violently.

Darcy’s mind floated somewhere far away while he drove into her, lifting her lower back off the bed, fingers digging into the dimples above her backside so hard it hurt.

A scream tore from her throat when he bit down on her collar-hard. She would have been- if not totally unaware of what her hands were doing- scared she was ripping the hair from his head at that moment.

Loki followed her second orgasm with his own. She barely registered the cold liquid spilling deep inside her.

They stayed like that, watching one another for a few moments, both breathing and wide-eyed, and then he slipped out of her, un-gripped her hips, and collapsed next to the limp female form.

"It was good," she commented, her voice weak.

He hummed in amusement. “Shut up, Darcy, you ruin the moment.”

"I’m good at that," she shrugged, grinning cheekily at the God Of mischief. "King Loki." And just like that _, her game was back._

"Mmmm, I  _am_  your king,” he whispered, dragging her closer with one arm and entangling his legs with her own.

She giggled while he handled her like a rag doll, far too tired to try and wriggle away. Why make an effort if the plan would clearly fail? “No, you’re Asgard’s king. I don’t live in Asgard. Therefore, not my king. And you bit me.”

He smirked, running the pad of his thumb over said large, bruising, and swollen mark.

She flinched away. “No touchy, it hurts.”

"One day, little Darcy," he whispered, mouth close to hers, eyes burning into her own, finger trailing up her neck. "You will live in Asgard. You will be my queen. And you will have nowhere to run from me."

She shivered.

"That tight little cunt will be all mine." He bit his bottom lip. "And There will be nothing you can do about it."

"Loki-"

"This body belongs to me, Darcy."

His possessive words plucked a chord of fear somewhere deep in her belly. But also, infinitely more terrifying, a chord of searing arousal.

"I will have you," he whispered softly, watching her, listening to her hard breath. "I will always have you. Anticipating my touch, yearning for my lips upon your flesh, wanton and open. All for me."

"Stop being scary," she said, instantly regretting the words before the first syllable left her mouth.

Without warning, his cock pushed inside her again.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, eyes threatening to flutter closed. “Loki. Sensitive,” she hissed.

He took either side of her head in his hands and stared into her eyes, holding her in place while he fucked her again- slowly this time, purposefully.

"You."  _Thrust_. “Are.”  _Thrust_. “Mine.”  _Thrust._

She came again, seeing stars, the only name on her lips a whisper, a prayer;

_"Loki."_


End file.
